Thinking of Mom

Will I ever grow up? Will I ever see a time when, on getting sick, I won’t long for my mother to tuck the extra pillow under my head, to bring me a cup full of orange juice and a flexi-straw, to soothe me out of a coughing fit by her loving embrace rocking me to stillness? Will I ever take cold medicine without imagining the pills in her open palm or lifted in her gentle fingers? Will I ever see a humidifier and not imagine the rickety old one of my youth — a short brown pan with a cone-head fan — that she would carefully perch atop my little desk chair, drawn up beside my bed? Will I ever not desire that small plate with its slice of toast somehow perfectly buttered?

Will I?

I hope not.

Love you, Mom.

(And can I get some more orange juice, please?)

2 Comments

  1. Mike – I am so sorry you are not feeling well! Do you want the juice in your favorite childhood green “Doc” cup or the red “Grumpy” cup? It means so much to me that you have such fond memories. In fact, I am shedding a few loving tears. I love you very much!! Mom

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